


Nightmare

by EllieStormfound



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Anxiety, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Nightmare, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Whump, Wyvern - Freeform, geralt tries to take care of him, hurt with a bit of comfort, our precious bard has a horrible nightmare, self-hate, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieStormfound/pseuds/EllieStormfound
Summary: In which Jaskier has a horrible nightmare and Geralt tries to take care of him but has his own fears to keep at bay...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 146





	Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> It's probably not my best work, but it demanded to be written...
> 
> This is whumpy, angsty, hurt with a bit of comfort.  
> I picture this happening early in their friendship, maybe one of the first fights Jaskier has been involved in.

Geralt could hear Jaskier mutter his name through the closed door of their tiny inn room that Geralt was approaching. It was the middle of the night and he was returning from clearing a nest of nekkers. 

Geralt walked into the room and closed the door silently behind him.   
There was Jaskier lying on the bed, illuminated by the flickering flames from the fireplace. In their warm glow Geralt could see that the bard was asleep and he seemed to be having a vivid dream.   
He was lying on his side, knees drawn up and he firmly pressed a pillow and the scrunched up blanked to his chest, fingers digging into the fabric with white knuckles. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, walking over to the bed, but the bard did not wake. The witcher could now sense his frantic heartbeat and heard him muttering under his laboured breath. The vivid dream seemed to be a nightmare. 

Geralt quickly unbuckled and discarded his swords and armor and sat down on the edge of the bed.  
“Jaskier,” he said calmly but a bit louder this time.   
“No…” Jaskier muttered, “Geralt, no…” Geralt could see Jaskier’s eyes moving behind his closed lids.

He put a hand on the bard’s arm, squeezed softly and said, “wake up, you’re having a nightmare.” Jaskier’s hold on the bedding only tightened and he muttered in a hoarse voice, “Geralt, please…”  
With a frown the witcher carefully shook Jaskier’s shoulder, “Jaskier, I’m here, everything is okay, wake up.”

With a start the bard did as he was asked. He opened his eyes wide and took in the witcher at his bedside. And thankfully his heartbeat started to slow a bit.   
“Geralt,” he whispered, “I…”  
Geralt looked at him closely, the soft brown hair tousled, some strands pressed to his sweaty and unusual pale forehead and his nightshirt rumpled.

“You had a nightmare,” he said in his deep voice, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.   
Jaskier swallowed a few times. He seemed a bit more relaxed but was still clutching the bedding in a tight grip. Slowly Geralt reached over and laid his hand over Jaskier’s. When he didn’t pull away, the witcher began to carefully loosen the grip finger by finger while Jaskier just stared at their hands.

“Do you want to...wouĺd it help if you…” Geralt had trouble finding the right words, “you can tell me what you dreamed about,” he finally managed.  
A moment later he could extract the pillow from Jaskier’s embrace. He fluffed it up and placed it on the head of the bed before he also took the blanket, shook it out and placed it over him. 

But Jaskier shook the blanket off, sat up and threw his arms around Geralt, pressing his face in the crook of his neck. So the witcher wrapped his own arms around his bard, pulled him to his lap and stroked soothing circles on his back.

“I dreamed…” Jaskier began in a shaky, muffled voice, “it was the fight with the wyvern…”  
He needn't say more. The memory of the fight, where he barely made it out alive washed over him like a cold wave and he pressed his face into Jaskier’s hair. But it was not the memory of the thread to his own life that made him shudder.

Jaskier had insisted on accompanying him that day and Geralt had been so arrogant to assume he would to keep him safe.   
But the wyvern was a mean old beast with many battlescars to show for it and it had instantly spotted the weaker of the two, diving down to grab for the colorful bard. 

Geralt had anticipated the move and deflected the sharp talons, shouting for Jaskier to run and hide.   
The second time the wyvern dove down from the sky Geralt could land a blow that threw the beast out of the sky, but it crashed into him, pulling the witcher in a tumble towards the cliff’s edge. Geralt managed to untangle himself before he could fall down with the wyvern, but banged his head on a boulder, leaving him unconscious just mere meters from the drop as the beast fell over the edge. 

Jaskier had run to him, patting his cheek and shaking his shoulders to wake him up, but a heartbeat later the wyvern soared up again and snatched the witcher’s leg.   
The beast had looked dizzy and roughed up as well, bleeding from the sword wound Geralt had inflicted and a few others from tumbling to the ground and over the cliff, but it was still strong and it started to pull the motionless witcher towards the edge. 

The bard had grabbed his witcher tightly, burying his fingers in his armor and holding onto him for dear life, his heels firmly planted into the rocky ground, shouting for Geralt to wake up.   
And in the end the witcher had. With a clean blow of his silver sword he had decapitated the wyvern and all had seemed fine.

But obviously the fight had left it’s scars on the bard. Not visible red lines on his body, but in his mind.  
In that moment, holding a shaking bard in his arms, Geralt hated himself.   
He hated himself for allowing the bard to follow him to the dangerous monster. And he hated himself more because without Jaskier there he would have probably died. 

This pressure of seeing his friend nearly carried off a cliff, of knowing that he had been the only thread to hold Geralt on the right side of the deep fall was now crushing down on Jaskier and Geralt felt helpless.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, caressing the back of Jaskier’s head, weaving his fingers in the brown curls, “I’m so sorry.”  
They sat like this for a long time, helplessly clinging to one another till the overwhelming flood of fear had ebbed away.

That night in bed they didn’t leave the usual ten centimeters of space between them. The witcher hugged his precious bard to his chest, keeping him safe in his embrace, shielded from the world that was full of monsters and felt his own wave of security wash over him as Jaskier wound his arms around Geralt’s middle, tangling their legs together and pressing his face to his broad chest. At least for now they were safe.


End file.
